Amnesia
by Snowfluff
Summary: The depths of the dark, the secrets of the mind, the memories drifting...this is amnesia.


_It was dark and very cold. That was the only thing she could remember._

_The only thing that was on her mind when she woke up, all those years later. _

* * *

The girl gasped for air. Darkness...it was all around her. Every time she tried to suck in oxygen, she was welcomed by a huge wall of nothing, swallowing her up and shooting pain all around her body.

Was she in hell? No, hell could never be this dark. Perhaps she was floating in the unconsciousness of her mind. She didn't know. The girl opened her mouth and tried to breath again. There was a sudden tightness in her chest and it began to swell, cutting off her air supply.

The girl looked around in the darkness, her eyes wide open with fear. _Oh god, I can't breathe! I can't breathe! I'm going to die. I'm going to die. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

She could feel as the last of the oxygen in her lungs leave. The girl let out one more strangled gasp before going limp. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and the darkness enclosed her.

* * *

"Oh my gosh, what do you think is wrong with her?" There was a sharp jab to the side of her nose.

"Tish, don't touch. That's very rude." A boy's smooth voice rang out with youth.

A sigh. "What's wrong with touching her nose? It's not like she's going to notice."

"Yeah, that's what you think." Feet shuffled around her. The girl felt the tip of a woolen scarf brush her forehead. "Okay, we're going to lift her up in one, two, three!"

Groans were emitted around her as she felt herself hoisted up. Two warm hands were clutching her bare ankles, while two other hands were supporting her back.

"God, she's heavy as a block of ice." Another groan.

"Well, at least you have her back. Her ankles _feel _like a block of ice." The girl felt herself being tilted down as the boy and Tish adjusted their grip.

The girl felt herself being moved. The footsteps of the boy and girl echoed, ringing and bouncing off the ground. "Why are we here, again?"

A pause. "Martin wanted her. And you know when Martin wants something -"

"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill." Tish let out an exasperated sigh. "I just hope this whole trip was worth it."

The girl felt her feet being jammed against a wall. The shock shot up to her head, and once again, she passed out.

* * *

She woke up gasping for air. Her hands flew to her throat as she convulsed. The girl then stopped when she realized that air was there. She could breathe.

Looking around, the girl frowned. She was lying on a bed in a plain, white room. There were several beds around her identical to hers. It looked like she was in a hospital. There was a sort of warm, yellow glow that filled the entire room that made you feel comforted.

Looking down, the girl saw that she was wearing a plain, white T-shirt along with blue jeans. How did she get here?

"So our visitor has woken." The girl turned her head around to see a boy and girl walk into the room. The boy had bronze, tousled hair. He was wearing a red T-shirt along with brown khakis. The girl had caramel-colored hair that braided down on both sides. She was wearing a blue blouse with black leggings. She was also wearing a name tag that said TISH on it. The boy's voice sounded achingly familiar...

The girl stared at them. "Visitor." It almost hurt to speak; as if she hadn't used her throat in a long time.

The boy leaned on her bed railing. "I'm afraid that's what we call you. Unless, you have something against it..."

"No, no, I'm fine...it's just..." She shook her head. "Confusing."

Tish frowned. "Confusing? What do you mean?"

"I...it's..." The girl let out a sigh. "Complicated. I mean, why am I here?"

The boy pursed his lips together and exchanged glances with Tish. "Never mind that. Hi, I'm Damen. What's your name?" Damen approached her, leaning in close. Their noses were barely an inch apart.

"I..." The girl broke off. What _was _her name? She was confident she had one, but for some reason she didn't remember. Suddenly, a name flashed in her mind. A name that tugged in her gut; a name that she recognized. "I am Eliza."

The reaction was immediate. Tish let out a gasp, while Damen pulled away, scrunching his eyebrows together. "Impossible," he murmured, glancing at his hands. Swiftly, Damen pulled out a dagger and pressed it against her throat. "Are you lying? Are you speaking the truth?"

Eliza began to choke as he pressed against her air tube. "I..." She gasped for air before being dragged into the deep depths of unconsciousness.

* * *

_1783 _

The lamps were flickering. Eliza sat in the pub, her elegant dress billowing down her legs. She was awaiting news on the Britain lost, she would be broke. Her money depended on the British army.

Eliza stared at the radio. It crackled with static and groaned. Sighing unhappily, Eliza fingered her engagement ring. She could only hope Louis would make it out of the war alive. They were only eighteen, after all. It was only Louis's first year in the army. Maybe he would be cut some slack.

"Do you want a drink, ma'am?" The bartender flashed a cheeky smile. Eliza sighed. "I'll take a shot, thanks." As the bartender turned to get her drink, the radio began to crackle.

"Reports on...Revolutionary War..." Eliza leaned forward, hanging onto every word. "Lost a lot of men...names of a few...Brian Harding...Peter Bullot...Louis Vanderfield..."

Tears welled up in Eliza's eyes. So Louis didn't make it. He wouldn't come home to her open arms. Instead, his body would be shipped in a box to his family.

The bartender returned with Eliza's drink. His smile vanished when he saw her tearful face. "Are you okay?" He reached over and placed his hand on her arm. She looked up, and quickly wiped away her tears.

Eliza breathed in. "I'm fine. Uh, I'll just finish this up." Taking the drink, she chugged it down. She ran out of the bar in a flurry as the tears began to stream don her face.

That was the last thing she remembered that night.

* * *

**So for now, it's a one-shot. You guys tells me if you want me to continue it, or not.**


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